


unspoken words

by poppyharris



Series: the only one that brings me joy, is my computer boy [3]
Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: F/M, LMAO what is this shit, Suicidal Thoughts, a lot of bullying, bullying in american high schools is fuckin savage, eric n dylan were bullying assholes sorry to burst ur bubble, i should be banned i’m so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: dylan fucks up.
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Original Female Character(s)
Series: the only one that brings me joy, is my computer boy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030974
Kudos: 2





	unspoken words

“what the hell are you doing, dylan?”

dylan had been mid shove of gary burnley, the sneer on his face suddenly disappearing. he wasn’t going to turn around. if he didn’t turn around, it was like poppy didn’t even exist.

“beating the shit outta a retard, what’s it to you?” eric spat at her, moving out of dylan’s peripheral vision. dylan ached to pull eric back, to scream at him not to talk to her like that, but, eric would fucking shoot him if he didn’t man up.

dylan’s fist collided with gary’s stomach, a small omph coming from the boy before dylan let go, letting gary drop to the floor. he heard poppy gasp, but he still didn’t turn. eric’s boots squeaked along the floor, and he was probably getting up into poppy’s face, considering the shuffling of her own shoes.

“do you wanna get the fuck out of here before you end up in a locker?” eric hissed. dylan knew he’d be getting all up in poppy’s face, being roughly the same height as her. 

“i want to talk to dylan, not you,” poppy spat back, a little “oof” from eric sounding like she’d pushed him. “dylan, i’ll ask again, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

quick footsteps and a loud squeal told dylan everything he needed to know. “get out of here, poppy. we don’t want you around,” eric yelled. dylan’s fists clenched. everything in his body was screaming at him to turn around, to face up to what he’d done. but he didn’t. he just stood, staring at the locker that was supposed to contain gary. dylan should be in the smokers pit with eric right now. laughing about another little dickweed they’d taught a lesson.

“c’mon, vodka,” eric’s trainers squeaked as he turned on his heel, and dylan closed his eyes, before following. he only opened them after it was clear they’d passed poppy.

he didn’t look back.

* * *

poppy didn’t message him that night on aim. that wasn’t unusual, dylan supposed. only people that were like, together, messaged every day.

her name turned green, but dylan didn’t dare try to click on it. sue came up, saw her son staring intently at the screen with his finger poised over the left mouse button and slowly shut the door. dylan must be playing some game, she supposed.

but dylan wasn’t playing a game. he was staring at her name, willing himself to be strong enough to click it. 

it was 3:47am before he went to bed.

* * *

the weekend came quickly, and poppy still hadn’t messaged dylan. she barely looked at him at school, and sat with her theatre friends. no one had mentioned how they suddenly went from hanging out 24/7 to poppy walking all the way home by herself.

dylan watched her be completely normal. and he hated it. his entire plan to win her heart by her 15th birthday was slipping through his fingers, and he just wanted to be fucking dead.

he stared at the small pot containing a columbine flower. poppy had given it to him, told him she’d completely fallen in love with the flowers since arriving in colorado, and she wanted him to have one she’d grown herself. it’d been the best gift he’d ever received. 

it bloomed beautifully, and dylan had almost feverishly cared for it. but in a moment of madness, he’d threw it to the ground.

the hand painted pot shattered into a thousand pieces on his bedroom floor. the soil spread along with the pot, and the flower was crushed under a flying piece of ceramic. regret tinged at his heart as he stared at the destroyed planter, feeling like he’d just destroyed his last reminder of her.

he couldn’t bare to vacuum it up, to watch something she’d given him simply be sucked away. it needed to be more personal.

tom didn’t ask why dylan was crying over sweeping a shattered plant pot as he walked past dylan’s room.

* * *

dylan was exhausted. it’d been five days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes since poppy last spoke to him. and he had felt every single second of that pass.

everywhere he went, she seemed to be there. sue had a riveting conversation about coupons with diana stardew in walmart, dylan tried to make eye contact with poppy, but she simply stared down at the back of a packet of orange juice.

“i’m surprised you and poppy didn’t speak, i thought you were friends?” sue mentioned as they drove home, dylan slouching in his seat.

“we had a fight,” he answered, trying to reveal as little information as possible. okay, maybe it had all been his fault for beating up gary, but god he couldn’t apologise. some strange, angry demon inside him stopped him from admitting he had faults to poppy.

“oh, well, i hope you can resolve it soon. i haven’t seen you so miserable since grandma lottie died,” it was true. dylan would come home right after school and just sit up in his room until dinner, then would go back up after he’d eaten. sue’d been overjoyed when dylan started eagerly talking about the new girl at school that had a love of sonic the hedgehog and was happy to be introduced to more video games.

and now it was back to moody dylan, the phase everyone insisted he’d grow out of as quickly as he fell into it. sue gave him a side look as she drove, watching him stare out the window. teenagers. she’d never understand them.

* * *

poppy finally spoke to him on the 12th october, 1994. four words that made dylan feel like he had the opportunity to wriggle his way back into her life.

“move your fuckin’ ass,” she’d hissed at him as he scooched his chair into the aisle between the desks. it was better than nothing, dylan believed. it was almost a full sentence.

she didn’t say anything more for the rest of the lesson, but her non-verbal hand gestures telling him to fuck off soon became hissed commands. dylan was making progress. 

* * *

dylan resolved to apologise on her birthday by getting her a present and writing her a poem.

he apparently wasn’t the only one writing her a poem though, judging by ryan gibbs’ notebook. she was having a party, completely open invitation. dylan wondered if he was invited though, considering the withering looks she gave him whenever he saw her in the corridor.

the 25th october rolled around a lot faster than dylan was expecting though. the page he’d been working on for weeks didn’t actually have any words on it. just poppy flowers. poorly drawn poppy flowers. 

he stared at the page, his clock ticking over to 6am. he was so fucked. he couldn’t come up with a fucking amazing wonderful sweet kind awesome poem in two hours.

the box containing her gift looked horrendous too. the ribbon was frayed at the ends, and his clumsy fingers had tied one of the worst looking bows on earth. byron’s friends had laughed at it, tossing it between each other as dylan desperately tried to snatch it back.

god he fucking hated this world. he just wanted to be over it all. he wanted to cease, to not have to try to exist anymore. the girl he was sure he was destined to be with hated his guts, his brother and his friends fucking bullied the shit out of him. his best friend was an unstable fucking psychopath who kept calling dylan a “stupid pussy chaser” whenever dylan tried to tell him about his problems.

dylan just had so little worth living for. 

but that little white box with a shitty red bow was gonna fix all of that. 

* * *

dylan decided to catch poppy on her daily walk, which sounded fucking creepy when he wrote it down on his to do list. 

he waited for her to climb the hill, then hurried out of the front door, power walking to try and keep up with her.

“not today, dylan. please,” poppy stated simply when dylan caught up with her. he didn’t say anything, but simply reached out and grasped her wrist.

“huh-? dylan, let go!” poppy tried to pull her wrist out of his grip, but was simply greeted with dylan pushing the small box into her other hand.

she stopped struggling, and looked down at the box. “you got me a present?”

dylan stayed quiet, and took a step back. she looked between him and the box, looking slightly afraid of it.

“it won’t explode.”

dylan only just realised how fucking hollow his voice sounded. he was so tired of her being angry at him, and tired of hurting so much inside. he didn’t have a lot of control over his life, but he wanted to have control of this tiny part.

poppy pulled the ribbon, not commenting on the frayed ends or the poor tying, but simply appreciating the thought. she opened the box slowly, looking down at the present inside.

it was poppy’s plant pot. at least the largest chunks. the cracks had been filled carefully and painstakingly, yet there was no flower. she looked up at dylan, thinking of what to say.

“there’s a…” he coughed, and swallowed. trying to sound slightly less dead inside. “there’s a zinnia in there. i couldn’t find a fully grown one.”

poppy paused, staring down at the pot. “what happened to it?”

“i got angry. smashed it,” dylan stated simply and flatly. he wasn’t looking for an inquisition. just a sign he still had a chance.

poppy breathed out slowly. placing the pot back into the box. “mom’s going into denver tonight, wanna come round and play some sonic?”

dylan smiled. “i’d like that.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title: unspoken words by mxmtoon


End file.
